The Garrison: Part 1 - Bound
by MHWK
Summary: When Dean pulls into a sleepy rural town with no name, he and Sam are faced with a population of werewolves that feel threatened by their arrival. The last person he was ever expecting to see again, an old friend named Case (OC), is forced to come to their rescue when death becomes a possibility. Set in the end of Season 3, this is the first installment of a series of short-stories


"We are out in the middle of nowhere!" Sam griped, slamming shut the passenger door of the Impala.

"And that's why I stopped to ask for directions," Dean replied, grinning broadly.

They had driven into a town with no name and had stopped at the only building that seemed to have life, a rowdy adobe-built bar. Stepping through the door, they were met with deafening shouts and hollers. In the middle of the room a hulking man of large muscles sailed through the air and slammed upon a table, flattening it. The crowded hall cheered.

The victor stood up straight, stretched tight muscles. The Winchesters stared at the woman whom stood with her back to them. Her faded dark-wash jeans sat tight upon her muscled thighs and her strong calves, a delicious curve from hips to heeled boots.

"Welcome to Texas..." Dean mused, brow raised.

She turned her upper body as if she heard him speak and he couldn't help but stare at the low cut v-neck of her dark red blouse. Her brunette hair in gentle waves about her shoulders, her brown eyes looked back at him with immediate recognition. "Drinks are on this guy!" she shouted, laughing, pointing to the man that had broken through the table on his fall. Everyone cheered.

As the night crowd moved to the bar, she strode toward the brothers, a sway in her hips that kept Dean's attention away from her face.

"Dean Winchester," she said, eying him suspiciously, a smirk upon her painted lips. "It's good to see you."

Dean looked her up and down. "You sure have grown, Case," he said. He almost hadn't recognized her. She had matured since he had last seen her, appeared more like a woman instead of a teenage boy. It was a lilt in her voice and the sarcasm that was there, even if it wasn't intentional, that had given her away.

"And you still look like a pain in the ass," she smiled. She glanced to his side, to Sam, and her brow furrowed. "Sammy?" she blurted.

"Don't call me Sammy," he replied. Shaking his head, he then asked, "Do I know you?"

"We met briefly," she said and then clarified, "before you left for college."

He shook his head. "I don't remember."

With a shrug, she dismissed Sam, quickly ignored him and acted as if he no longer existed. Reaching out, she grabbed Dean's hand and pulled him close. "Dean Winchester," she his name again, this time slower, pressing her body against his. She ran a finger along his jaw, beckoned his lips to hers.

Sam stared. He couldn't think of any words to say to break his brother from the not-so-subtle interest of a woman he had only just met

Leaning back, the woman in red, whom Dean had called Case, said, "Let's get the hell out of here, Dean." She then slid her eyes over to the younger brother and added, "The three of us. For old time's sake?"

"Don't gotta tell me twice," Dean laughed.

She pulled Dean by his hand as she turned to leave the bar. When Sam seemed reluctant to follow, she retraced her steps and slid a finger through a beltloop of his pants to pull him along.

The moment she saw the Impala, she released them and ran to it, running her hands over the glossy black finish before she crouched down to look through the driver's side window. "Done some remodeling..." she said softly.

"Don't like it?" Dean questioned.

Spinning about, she asked, "Can I drive?"

Sam snickered, knowing the answer. Dean grinned broadly and shook his head. "No," he told her.

Pouting, the woman before them walked her fingers along the roof of the car and said, "Come on, Dean. The longer we sit around in the parking lot, the less excited I am to see you."

Sam stared at his brother as the keys sailed through the air. She caught them and waved the brothers into the vehicle. "Shotgun!" Dean shouted and beat his brother to the front seat. Shuffling, Sam sat in the back.

The car peeled out backwards, throwing gravel in every direction before spinning and taking off, away from the rowdy bar and the darkened town.

"Alright," Dean said suddenly in the quiet car, the only sound the roar of the engine and the tires on the road. "What the hell is going on, Case?"

"You picked the wrong damn town to stroll into looking for a drink," she returned quickly, her attitude no longer silly and flirtatious. Sam looked between the two of them, confused.

"Care to explain?" Dean questioned roughly.

Her teeth clenched, Sam drew away as he heard an animalistic growl. "What was that?" he asked.

With a heavy sigh, the woman known as Case continued on. "You remember those werewolves we killed in Kentucky?" she asked Dean.

"You're a werewolf?" he blurted.

"Will you shut up and let me talk?"

Dean threw his hands in the air and leaned heavily back in his seat.

"See, there are two kinds," she said after she was sure he wouldn't say anything else. "There are those weird... human-looking ones with the messed up teeth and crazy eyes. And then there are the ones that originated both here in the Americas with some of the native tribes, and simultaneously in Italy, before the time of the Romans. The big, wolf-looking suckers with fluffy tails that walk on two legs."

"Like in Van Helsing?" Sam asked.

"Ha!" she laughed, "He watches movies!" Smiling, she continued, "Yeah, like those, but with tails. Usually they remember everything in both forms, which is why they don't usually get hunted. They don't kill people, unless they pose a threat. They keep to themselves and stay hidden." She paused and didn't speak again until Dean turned his head to look at her, asked a question without saying a word. "They don't like newcomers... strangers... So, to keep you safe, I have to claim you." She glanced in the rearview mirror to Sam, "Both of you."

"Pull over," Dean ordered.

"No."

"Pull over, Case!" he shouted.

"I can't!" Hands tightening on the steering wheel, she said, "They are watching this car and they're going to make sure it shows up at my house."

"And after that?" Sam asked.

She made an uncomfortable noise.

Dean turned in his seat, looked to his brother. "You banged a werewolf before, Sammy, do I have anything to worry about?"

"Dean..." his brother warned. To the driver of the car, he said, "I thought you said they wouldn't kill regular people."

"You pose a threat," she replied, "the two of you smell like killers."

"You can smell that?" Dean asked.

"You reek," she muttered, her nose wrinkling.

Leaning forward, setting his arms on the front seat, Sam asked, "So... we have to... have sex?"

"You make it sound like a bad thing," his brother laughed.

Sighing, she said, "The last thing I ever wanted to see again was Dean Winchester's pasty white ass..."

"Hey!"

Sam asked, "When were you two...?"

"Never," she replied.

"You were pretty convincing back there..." Sam muttered.

"I walked in on her when she was about to jump in the shower," Dean said.

"Then how did she see you naked?"

Case glanced across the darkened car to the elder Winchester brother and said, "I still wonder about that..." Shaking her head, she then said, "When we get there... act a little excited. We have to go up to the second floor immediately. The lower level is public."

"Public?" Sam asked.

"It's my house, but the pack owns it," she told them.

As the Impala pulled onto a short, paved driveway in front of a two-story Victorian-style house, Sam stepped out of the car and looked about. He turned one way, then the other, and found no sight of any other homes near the one that appeared as if it belonged on a curbside in a suburban white-washed neighborhood.

"Keys," Dean said as the woman closed the door.

A coy smirk upon her lips, she placed the keys into her back pocket and beckoned him to her. She held her hand out to Sam and he grasped it with his own. He could feel her hand tremble, but nothing else about her suggested discomfort. She was flirty, watching him like she wanted him, like he was the only man in the world. He felt at ease, too comfortable. He immediately wondered if this attraction were something she had acquired since becoming a werewolf, or something that was always hers. He was sure he would have remembered her if she had given him such a look at their first meeting. Before he disappeared to college; before he left hunting behind.

"Come on, Dean," she called.

She pulled Sam along as she ran up the front steps to the porch. She leaned back against the door, pulling the younger Winchester close against her. He towered above her. He could smell the subtle scent of coconut in her hair. Her hands slid down his chest, to his waist, while her brown eyes said more than anything else. She might have kissed his brother before, ignored him before, but no one else in the world existed in her eyes when he stood with her on that darkened porch.

As Sam leaned in to kiss her, Dean stepped up beside them. "Easy, Sammy," he said and slapped his brother on the back.

Case glanced to Dean, smiled, and opened the door behind her. She walking backward into the house. The stairs to the second floor were in the middle of the room. To the right a living room, to the left the kitchen.

Releasing Sam, she rushed up the stairs and they followed. They kept silent until they entered a bedroom and she pressed a button on her stereo system. Sweet Child of Mine began to play. Sam closed the bedroom door. Dean laughed.

"Don't talk too loud," she said, coming to stand near them.

"We can't just kill them?" Dean asked.

"They're good people, Dean," she told him.

"How'd you end up like this?" he chuckled.

Crossing her arms, she stared back at him, unamused. "Look," she said, "we have sex, you two stay the night, get the hell out of here in the morning."

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "You... want us both? At the same time?"

She shook her head quickly. "I'm pretty sure you've seen Dean's pasty ass before, too, and would rather not see it again," she said and he nodded.

"First!" Dean said.

"This is so awkward," Sam said and made his way to the bathroom. "I'll just sit in here and put my fingers in my ears."

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Sam kept away from the small, red-draped window. The bathroom was pristine. The white porcelain tub was scrubbed clean, bottles of coconut shampoo and conditioner sat on the edge of the tub. The tiling on the shower wall was blue, colored like marble. He tried to focus on counting the tiles.

Outside, in the bedroom overwhelmed by Guns N Roses, Case stood before Dean, and he stared back at her with less enthusiasm than what he had shown his brother. "Normally," he said softly, "I'd be really happy... but when I look at you, all I see is that kid I thought was a boy because you wore a hoodie all the time and you had no boobs."

"You still have a way with words," she grumbled and sat heavily upon the foot of the bed.

After a moment of debate, he sat beside her, his head bowed. "Truth is," he said, "I've got less than two months to live, Case... You deserve more than that... after what I-" She kicked his foot with the side of hers.

"Nobody likes a soft Dean Winchester," she told him with a knowing smirk and she set her head upon his shoulder. "I was wondering what that smell was... A ticking death-clock."

"You can smell that?" he asked.

"Yeah," she breathed, "It's why I stopped going into the city. I couldn't handle the overload. I could smell everything, not just the normal stuff. I could smell demons and hear ghosts. I can see things when no one else can. Supernatural entities are all interconnected I guess. And none of them really have any friendly feelings towards werewolves. We're the outcasts of the Paranormal Freak Society..."

"So you holed yourself up in a town that doesn't exist," he muttered.

"And when I get angry, I drink and break things and it's completely acceptable," she told him, sitting up straight and smiling. She placed her hands into her lap, fidgeted.

Gently, Dean took her hand in his. Beside him sat another lost soul. He was afraid to die, and she was afraid to live. The girl he had met before had been hellfire, with more sarcasm than he could handle. Her mother, a hunter, had been the same way. Loose with words, uncaring for hurt feelings. There was never time to apologize.

"You've got a little more than a month to live, Dean," she said softly, squeezing his hand in hers. "I'm positive you'll find a way to stop that ticking clock of yours. You're your father's son after all. And I'll be damned if he wasn't a genius when it came to getting what he wanted."

"A dead genius," Dean grumbled.

"You sound like you blame yourself," she replied.

"He sold his life for mine."

"And nothing you could have done would ever have stopped him from doing it," she told him. Bumping him with her shoulder, she drew his attention and she smiled as she reassured him, "He was stubborn, and he passed that to you and Sammy."

"I've really missed you, Case," he said.

She grinned. "Liar, you hardly took the time to get to know me," she laughed.

"I know who you are," he told her and let go of her hand, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I pay attention to the people that are supposed to have my back when some supernatural creepy-crawly is around."

"Then, please," she began, "what's my favorite color since you know me so well."

"Trick question," he replied, "it's every color at sunrise."

She stared back at him, looked at him like she was seeing a ghost. Her skin warmed, her face reddened. She flushed and then looked away. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. When her attention once again fell upon him, he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers and she moved into his arms.

If only for a little while, everything made sense as he drew her red blouse over head, slid gun-calloused hands over a black brassiere and down to a slim waist of smooth tanned skin. He pulled her upon his lap, buried his face in the heat of her body.

Unbuttoning the jeans that sat tight on her legs, he pulled her closer and rolled her to her back on the soft black blankets of the bed. She drew his face to hers, kissed him so deeply that he didn't dare move. When he did, he didn't stray far, his lips trailing from hers, down her neck. She kicked her boots from her feet as his hands returned to her jeans. Slowly, he slid them from her body, his mouth at her navel.

As he stood up straight, dropping his leather jacket to the floor, she sat up, sliding her hands beneath his shirt. She pulled it over his head and let it fall away. Her hands rested upon his stomach, his muscles taut as if he didn't quite trust her.

His hesitation flew out the window as she stepped back, into the bed, a finger entwined in his necklace as she drew him forward.

Sam couldn't help but feel guilty. Had he and Dean not shown up, Case, if that was even her name, would never have been put in a situation where she needed to have sex with a man she cared little for, and another that was almost a complete stranger. He was sure his brother wouldn't even notice, nor care. Case was so good at making them feel at ease, even if she wasn't.

He sat on the closed toilet, stood, paced, sat back down. Rising to his feet, he turned, stared at himself in the long mirror. There wasn't even a streak on the surface. Sitting down again, this time on the edge of the tub, he tried to remember if he had ever met a girl named Case. He had been so consumed in just getting away from his father and his brother and the family business that there was little he could remember when it came to brief meetings.

"Case," he whispered to himself, "Case."

Finally, it clicked.

He remembered her, if only a little, a sliver of a memory. He could see himself shaking her hand. She had looked so plain before, unassuming. She was the daughter of a hunter. He could hear her try to introduce her self, but he couldn't hear her first name. Only "Case."

He only knew then that they had met before. That was all he knew. How long she and her mother had been around Dean and their father after that, he didn't know. What else he was unsure of, was how long he had sat in the bathroom. He had sat in the car while Dean had conquered other endeavors earlier in the year. Even with more than one woman, it hadn't taken nearly as long.

Trying to distract himself, Sam tried to think of questions he had for Case. He and Dean had never run across her kind of werewolf before, and there was more he wanted to understand. How did the bar even have alcohol to serve if none of the wolves left the town?

Glancing to the clock on the counter, beside the sink, he couldn't understand how an hour was nearly passed. Dean should have already been long gone, searching for pie. He was beginning to wonder if they had lied to him about not being in a relationship before when, finally, the door to the bathroom opened and he looked up.

Case stood there, staring across her bedroom, holding her dark blankets around her body, tight against her chest. Bringing her gaze to him, she smiled, but there was something in her eyes that brought him to his feet. There was hurt that she quickly tried to hide from him. He glanced out into the empty bedroom, the red pillows upon the king-sized bed lay askew. He saw his brother's clothes strewn across the floor with hers.

"Where's Dean?" he asked.

"Downstairs, making himself a sandwich," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

Sam chuckled. "Sounds about right..."

She smiled and he was struck by it. He had so many questions, too many. But everything depended on one single instance that he knew she did not want. She turned her gaze across the room again. She was waiting for him. It needed to happen. She wanted to keep them safe.

Gently, he took her face in his hands. She turned into him and he pressed his lips to hers, drawing her to him. She still smelled of coconut, her hair, her skin. She ran her fingers up his arms, to his neck, through his hair. The blankets fell away. He grabbed her, lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around him.

Her thighs held tight against him. There was no longer any time to think. His clothes were restricting. His body ached, his muscles tense as he tried to control the overwhelming lust that seized him. Sam fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. He couldn't hear for the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.

As she stood before him again, releasing him, she helped slide the shirt from his shoulders. He was halfway out of his clothes when he lay her upon the bed and she welcomed him with the lightest touches of fingertips. He couldn't breathe. Every time her skin graced his, it was electrifying, filled with heat and passion that wouldn't let him sit still for even a second.

Case lay still in the middle of the bed, her chest heaving, sweat beading on her skin. Sam lay beside her, staring up at the ceiling. He glanced over to her. There was a smile on her face, and he couldn't help but grin.

Shifting where she lay, she turned towards him and then turned back, laying flat again. Her smile faded. He thought for a moment she would come to him. He wanted her to curl against him.

Propping himself up on his arm, Sam asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's difficult," she breathed softly and closed her eyes. "Sometimes, I have trouble... I have to remind myself to act human. There are things I would do with other wolves that I wouldn't do with a human in the same situation."

Reaching out, he brushed a strand of hair from her face and she looked back at him with surprise. "How did you end up here?" he asked.

"I was on a road trip with my mother," she replied, "a few weeks after splitting up from your dad and brother. We walked into that bar one night trying to find somewhere to stay awhile and they smelled the blood on her, on me. They knew we were hunters and they killed her. One of the wolves claimed me in a fight. He changed me, and I knew there was nowhere I could go. There was nowhere I was going to be safe other than here."

Sam lay back on the bed. He was trying to think. He wished he could help, but he didn't know what he could do. Feeling movement, he glanced to Case as she slowly moved against him, setting her head upon his shoulder and an arm around his waist. Her heart was a lonely wanderer, just as he and Dean were. Lonely souls in a place they didn't fit in. It eased his own guilt that she could seek comfort in him in some way.

"Case!" came a shout from downstairs, Dean's voice.

Rising out of bed, she threw a robe about her body and rushed from the room. Sam managed to find his boxers and pull them on before following her.

She came to a stop on the stairs where she looked down and a smirk appeared across her lips. He only saw when he was right behind her. There were four men in the house. Dean stood in the kitchen, both hands over his crotch as the four men circled him, sniffed at his naked body like crazy people.

"Satisfied?" Case asked.

"I just wasn't so sure you were serious about these two," they heard and turned their attention to the front door where a fifth man leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He was built with lean muscles, but it was hard to tell with his loose clothes and his leather jacket zipped up over his chest.

Case smiled half-heartedly. "Can I have my house to myself now?" she asked casually.

The man laughed, waved to the other four. Before they all departed, he said, "Boss wants you and your friends to make an appearance at breakfast. Dress nice and he might let you keep them."

"They're only here for a little while," she replied.

He smirked, "Of course."

As the door closed, Case stood very still for a moment before breathing a heavy sigh of relief.

With a shake of his head, Dean asked, "How is this a good thing?"

Sam looked away from his brother, Case stared at him. "You want to cover up down there, Dean?" she asked.

"Now you're bashful?" he joked.

"No," she replied, "but I think your junk is bothering your brother."

Dean reached out to grab a dish towel and Case turned and trudged up the stairs. "What'd I do?" he asked.

"You went for a sandwich," Sam muttered.

"Really?" Dean laughed. "I was hungry!" He shrugged. "And if I didn't have a reason to get out of that room, you'd still be sitting in the bathroom right now."

Sam frowned, his brows drawn close. "You like her?" he asked.

"It was kinda hard getting to know her way back when. She was a real hardass," Dean explained. "She hasn't changed much," he added and then shrugged, "Except now she actually looks like a chick."

"Kinda shallow, Dean," his brother sighed. "Look, we should probably talk to Case and see what we need to do about tomorrow..."

"Leave early..." Dean grumbled.

Walking into the bedroom, they found it empty. Sam could hear the water running in the shower, could see the steam coming through the crack in the door. "Put your clothes on," Sam told his brother.

Dean only did as Sam had done, pulled on his boxers, and then sat on the edge of the bed. "Are we all sleeping in the same bed?" he asked.

"I think it would look bad if we didn't," Sam replied.

"Who would know?"

"Do you really want to risk it?"

The water shut off. Something shattered. "Shit!" came a growl.

Sam, still on his feet, ran to the door. "Case?" he asked and knocked.

"Yeah, it's fine..." she muttered.

Gently, he opened the door. The mirror was fogged up and the room was full of steam, but he could see her as she stood holding her right hand, blood dripping to the floor. He looked past her, into the shower where a blue tile was missing and the ones around it were cracked. Everything smelled of coconut.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Her gaze snapped up to his face as if she hadn't heard him enter. Her brown eyes were wide. It almost seemed as if she didn't remember that there were other people in her house.

He stepped toward her and she stepped away. "If my blood gets in your system," she warned, "you'll end up like me."

He held up his hands, turning them one way and then the other, showing his lack of wounds. "Let me help," he said.

"I heal pretty quickly," she told him. "I'll be fine."

Gently, he took her hand in his, leading her to the sink. Her flesh was hot to the touch. The abrasion on the back of her hand, across her knuckles, was angry, irritated, but as he rinsed the wound he found the skin mostly healed. There had been enough blood running down her arms to the floor that had made him think she had split her hand into pieces, but that did not appear to be the case.

Grabbing the towel she had set upon the toilet, he wrapped it about her. She looked back at him with amusement in her eyes, confusion. He couldn't help but stare back. Her skin was tanned from the sun. She looked like she spent much of her time outside, but it didn't show as work since her hands were smooth. His were rough with callouses like his brother's.

"I... need to get dressed..." she said softly.

"Right!" Sam said quickly and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Very smooth," Dean chuckled. Then he leaned forward and shook his head. "Are we sharing?" he asked, "I don't really know what's going on, and personally, I'm not a fan of sharing."

"We're trying not to get killed by werewolves, remember?" Sam said.

"How are we trying to do that by going to breakfast in the morning?"

The bathroom door opened and Case stepped out, a towel over her head. She was dressed in unflattering pajamas, gray and baggy. "At sunup," she said, "get in the car and drive off as fast as you can. Don't look back, and never come here again."

Dean rose to his feet. Sam stood very still. She had drawn them in and repelled them just as easily. Sam suddenly felt very unsure of what had been real and what was merely a lie, acting. He felt betrayed.

"So we're missing breakfast with the boss?" Dean questioned.

"You'll get yourself killed there," she replied, "you and Sammy both." The flatness of her tone was less than amicable.

"And what about you?" Sam asked.

"She told us to run," Dean said, "who cares? Wolves can take care of their own."

"Dean," his brother warned.

"She used to be a hunter just like us," Dean shrugged, "If she says run, we should probably run."

"You should listen to him, Sam," Case said, "he's trying to keep you alive."

"What happens if we run, Case?" Sam asked her and she looked away. Confused, he watched her, unsure again of her truths and her falsehoods.

Dean's blue eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, suspicious. "Case...?" he asked when she said nothing.

"I don't know," she told him.

"You don't know?" Dean's voice raised.

"It's different every time," she told him. "It's always the newer ones to the pack that have trouble with things like this." Her voice began to raise. "I am _not_ new and I have fought my way high up into this pack. I have standing, Dean." She grabbed her towel from her head and threw it down onto floor. "Damn it! I can't fight for you two. If my claim is contested, there's a chance we could all die."

"What's the chance of it being challenged?" Sam asked.

"You're hunters, and you're too close..." she sighed, "It's likely."

Dean smirked. "You're dead if you do," he said, "and you're dead if you don't."

A slight smile crept into the corner of her mouth. "No kidding," she said and shook her head, the smile growing.

Sam looked between them, lost. "If we stay," he said, "maybe we can help you."

Case groaned and turned on Dean. "Is he always like this?" she asked.

"Annoying, huh?" Dean said.

"It's sweet," she replied.

Dean sighed heavily, "You got soft, Case."

"Not everyone can be a raging psychopath like you, Dean," she muttered.

"You're both crazy," Sam mumbled under his breath. He was beginning to understand one thing, if nothing else. Even though he had been raised as a hunter, his brother and Case had done it much longer, had succumbed to hiding beneath laughter and morbid humor. He had escaped the same fate by leaving, but he had known enough of the lifestyle to know when there was fear that didn't wish to be mentioned.

The bed was big enough to comfortably fit all three of them. Case slept in the middle after teasing that Sam should sleep there, that she and Dean could share him. "I don't want him that bad," Dean had muttered.

In the middle of the night, Dean awoke when he felt the bed moving. Sam stirred restlessly. Case exhaled heavily and curled upon herself. There was enough room for them to all sleep in the same bed and none of them touch, but it was evident to Dean that they all seemed unable to get comfortable. He was paranoid of every sound, every movement.

Sam's arm came around Case, pulled her close. The air rushed from the woman's lungs, but she didn't move. She lay on her side, facing Dean, and he could see her eyes open in the dark, in the glint of the moonlight coming through the window. He watched as his brother moved against her, nestle his face in her dark, wavy hair.

Dean couldn't help but feel jealous, annoyed. Again, Sam got everything. He had known Case before his brother did, and Sam had forgotten her. They had both slept with the same woman and she had chosen Sam. Not him.

He felt fingertips graze his bare side and he flinched. She was watching him, had seen his inner turmoil and reached out to him. As he lay upon his stomach, his arms folded beneath his pillow, even though there was neither knife nor gun beneath it, he looked back at her. Case had made the connection, had beckoned his attention.

With a heavy sigh, he shifted closer to her. He buried his face into his pillow, but quickly glanced back at her when he felt the gentle brush of lips against his shoulder. She placed an arm across his back, a leg over his. He could feel the heat of her body along his bare skin, through her cloth sleep-pants. His anger fell away. She lay so close, he could feel every breath she took, feel her exhale across his skin as she lay her head upon his shoulder.

It was too easy to fall asleep, too easy to succumb to comfort and surrender paranoia for a night.

The sun was minutes before breaking the horizon when they rushed out of the house and to the Impala. "Keep going straight," she said, giving them directions. "There's a town about two hours out." Sam and Dean jumped into the car. Case stood at the driver's side door wearing a yellow sundress and a floppy hat with a wide brim upon her head. She leaned on the window and smiled tiredly. "Good luck," she told them.

"You too," Sam said.

Dean leaned in close and pressed his lips to hers. She stepped back, feigning offense.

Putting the car into reverse, Dean put his foot on the gas and began to peel out. He looked back, slammed on the breaks. Behind his car stood the man from the night before, the one that had invited them to breakfast. He was not a very pleasant looking man, especially as he stood behind the Impala with a disappointed frown upon his face.

"Damn it..." Dean breathed.

"And where were these two going?" the man asked and then chuckled, "Case?"

She winced as he said her name. "Nowhere," she replied.

"They aren't dressed very nice, are they?" he asked.

"They're on a road trip," she grumbled, "They don't carry formal wear in their bags. I was giving them directions to Loretta's."

"Don't be silly, Case," he told her, a distaste in the way he said her name, "all you had to do was ask. I would've lent them something."

Dean stuck his head out the window. "Really?" he asked joyfully.

"That's great!" Sam said out the other window. Case only smiled pleasantly.

"Shall we?" the man questioned.

The ride was uncomfortably quiet. Case sat in the back with the stranger. He was an unusual man that asked too many questions, many of them personal, all of them none of his business. "I must ask," he said softly, "why hunters? And why specifically these two?"

Dean glanced into the rearview mirror to see Case smile. Then she said, "I've wanted to see Dean naked since we were teenagers." Dean bit back a grin. Sam appeared puzzled for a moment, but then smiled all the same.

"Then you have known them from your life before us?" the man asked.

Case chuckled, "Are you jealous, Thomas?" and he was no longer smiling, no longer humored in any way.

As a growl escaped his lips, Case spoke through clenched teeth, "You mess up this car with a bad attitude and I will personally ruin you."

The tone in her voice drew Sam's attention to the back seat. He didn't look at her, only turned his head slightly as if it would help him hear better.

"A car?" Thomas scoffed.

"Got some good memories in this car," she replied.

"Like busting out the back window?" Dean asked.

Case crossed her arms beneath her breasts and leaned back in her seat. "You're still mad about that?" she muttered.

"It's not an easy thing to replace on an old girl like this," he told her.

Thomas' home was similar to Case's, built nearly identical, but it was dusty and appeared much less used than hers. He brought them clothes as the three waited in a downstairs bedroom. Case helped them dress, helped adjust their ties. They stared at themselves in the mirror. They looked as if they were going to a wedding; appeared more than presentable for any formal occasion.

"We're all going to die," Dean said softly, smiling at himself in the mirror.

"Be on your best behavior," Case told them, placing her arms around their waists, pulling them to her. "Follow my lead. And never, ever, look down."

Again, Sam felt her tremble, he wondered if his brother could feel the uncertainty in their mutual friend. As he watched their reflection, he could only see pleasant determination. No matter what happened at breakfast, Sam knew that if Case was forced to fight for them, she would. They would not die today.

The Impala was parked out front of a large house reminiscent of an old plantation home. Getting out, Case linked arms with the brothers and they followed Thomas around the side of the house to the back where a graying old man sat, staring off at children playing in the field by a pond.

"Sir," said Thomas as they approached. "They are here."

The older man didn't look over, only waved his hand, beckoned them to three seats around the round table that sat before him. Case sat at his right, Dean across from her, Sam across from their elder.

"Hunters, Casey?" the old man said with a strong voice. "Thomas says they are hunters."

"They are," she replied casually, "friends from the life I had before."

"And I am to believe they are not here to kill us all?"

Case shook her head. "If Thomas has told you they are here to kill you, then even he is mistaken," she said calmly.

"Thomas tells me that these are the Winchester boys."

Case nodded stiffly. "Yes," she said, "but I assure you they will not act unless threatened."

The old man became very still. The respect Case showed him, Dean could only assume that the man was the leader of the pack. "Your intentions, Casey?" the alpha asked.

"Company," she replied.

"Do you intend to keep them? To change them?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "The Winchesters do a great service and they cannot afford to be stationary for too long."

"A great service?" the old man roared. "They are often known for killing our kind."

"The wayward kind," she informed him, keeping her gaze with his. "None of our own." Allowing a moment for everyone to breathe, to think, she then said with a calm, level voice, "If you sentence us to death, then please do so swiftly. Winchesters and Remingtons will always be in the company of one another. Whether in life or death."

The old man stared at her, eyes wide, surprised by her blunt words. Then he laughed, "The Garrison."

Sam smirked.

Thomas spoke up then. "I don't approve of this, Sir," he said through gritted teeth.

"It is a temporary claim," the alpha said, "pack approval is only needed if their stay is to be considered permanent."

"They are hunters," Thomas pleaded.

Case looked to him then and only said, "You overstep your position, Thomas."

"He has been most unagreeable lately," the alpha said and Thomas stalked away. Alone with the alpha, Case attempted to rise, to excuse them from the meeting when the old man asked, "Why do you still smell like coconut?"

Half risen from her seat, her hands on the table, she stared back at her alpha. She slowly returned to her seat, her head lowered but her eyes unmoving from her elder. "I'd rather not talk about this with present company," she said through clenched teeth.

"It won't do any good," he told her, a reminder, and she growled. The noise wasn't aggression, but the sound of frustration as she leaned back in her chair, no longer poised in her yellow sundress.

When breakfast was served, raising the spirits of all at the table, Sam opened his mouth to ask a question and was immediately struck by two feet beneath the table. Dean and Case then glanced to each other, smirked.

"You silence a man before he speaks?" the alpha asked and her amusement fled.

"Case shuts everyone up before they say something stupid," Dean replied for her.

Taking a bite out of a sausage patty, the old man said, "It's good to know she hasn't seemed to change much since arriving."

"Except for now she actually listens to someone," he added.

"Dean..." she warned softly.

The old man laughed heartily. "By no choice of her own," he replied with a smile, "I assure you." He covered his mouth suddenly when a coughing fit forced his voice quiet. When it ended, he wiped at his mouth with a napkin. "And even then," he continued, "she has a way of making things happen exactly the way she wants them to."

"She's still a pain in the ass," Dean said with a smile.

"Sam, Dean," Case said with an oversweet grin. "Perhaps it's time you guys hit the road. I'm sure you have important things to do."

"You are leaving so soon?" the alpha asked, smiling a knowing smile.

"I guess we need to be going," Sam replied.

"You are welcome back any time," the old man told them.

"Just call first next time," Case grumbled as they rose from the table with all intention of walking them to the Impala, leaving the alpha and his large house behind.

As they arrived at the car, Dean took her hand and scribbled a note on her palm. "If you need anything," he said.

Looking at the phone number on her hand, Case then fanned herself saying, "Oh Dean Winchester, you are quite the heartbreaker."

Dean smirked. "Be careful, Case," he said.

"I still have some questions," Sam piped up.

Case took the pen from Dean and then grasped Sam's hand in her own. She scribbled on his skin and said, "Call me." Turning her amused expression to Dean, she added, "If you need anything."

Stepping forward, Dean wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, holding her tight. "Sure have missed you, Case," he said, "Sammy didn't even remember you."

Case laughed.

"I do now," Sam said defensively. "Why don't we stay tonight so we can all catch up. Then we'll take off in the morning."

"I'm not cooking," Case muttered.

"Still can't cook?" Dean asked.

"I can," she replied, "I don't want to."

"Sammy can," Dean said, "he's a regular housewife."

"Delightful," she muttered and then looked to his arms that still held her. "Say... Dean. Wanna let me go now?"

He released her, stepping back to lean against the Impala. "By the way," he said, "you shouldn't wear yellow, it drowns out your skintone..."

Case stared, brow raised. Sam looked back at his brother, mouth opened. "What is wrong with you?" he breathed.

Dean smiled.

With a shake of her head, Case blurted, "Dean Winchester, you are such an ass!"

"Am I missing something?" Sam asked, "Again..."

"Old times," the older brother laughed. He walked around to the driver's side of the Impala and said, "Alright, get in you two."

"Shotgun!" Case called.

"Want to sit close to me?" Dean smirked, brow raised.

"No," she replied, "I just wanted Sam behind me again."

Their jaws dropped.

As Case stood before the stove, her hair pulled back, dressed down in an AC/DC t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, Sam and Dean sat at the island counter upon barstools. "This is how it's supposed to be," Dean said.

"You'd better mean hanging out with an old friend," she growled and it sounded less like a human.

"Sure," he replied with a smile.

"Do you usually cook for yourself?" Sam asked.

"Sometimes," she said. "I'm a core member of the pack, so there are times I'm required to be in town. Usually, I'd rather be out here. It pisses Thomas off, though."

"What's his problem, anyway?" Dean grumbled.

"What isn't?" she replied. "He was born into the pack. I was brought in by a man named Ty, and promptly started kicking ass."

"Ty was the one that claimed you?" Sam asked.

With a groan, Case said, "A different kind of claim. The one I thought I was going to have to do for you two. When bringing a new member into the pack, we must all agree on it. Those that do not accept the new person must be forced to."

"A fight?" Dean asked.

"A fight," she repeated. "If the one who made the recommendation of the new member is defeated, he, or she, is usually killed, and so is the potential newcomer." Stirring a pot of boiling potatoes, she added, "Since the two of you are hunters, I would probably be facing the whole pack."

"I can see why you wanted to avoid that," Sam murmured.

"What happened to Ty?" Dean asked and Sam elbowed him in the side.

"Dead," she replied, "as far as I know. He disappeared a little less than a year after he changed me and either no one knows anything, or they refuse to tell me." Quickly, she rounded on Dean and said, "We're _not_ looking. You're _not_ looking. So don't do it."

He held up his hands. "I'm not doing anything but waiting for food," he replied.

After they ate, Case sat while the brothers washed dishes. "Casey Remington," Sam said aloud and Dean stood became still beside him.

"I haven't heard my name in a really long time," she sighed, stirring powdered chocolate into a mug full of warm milk. "It's kinda nice..."

"Nice?" Dean laughed, "You never wanted to be called Casey, before."

"Before?" she asked, "When you thought I was a boy or a really butch lesbian and called me Case?"

"Yikes," Sam chuckled.

"You looked like you could kick my ass," Dean explained.

"Looked like?" she returned, "I could then, and I can now."

Over his shoulder, he said, "Only because you turn into a fluffy puppy once a month."

"I could turn you into a fluffy puppy..." she grumbled.

"That doesn't sound very sexy," Dean said, shaking his head.

Case smirked.

The dishes done, Dean took a seat beside her and his brother stood on the other side of the counter. "Is this what you do?" Dean asked. "Just sit here all day when you're not beating up men in bars."

"I usually find a book to read," she replied.

"Nerd," he said.

"Loser," she muttered.

"One big, happy family," Sam sighed.

Case suddenly sat up straight. For a moment, Sam thought he had said something wrong.

Dean glanced to her, frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Someone's coming," she whispered and then took a slow breath. "Whatever you do," she told them, "Do. Not. Shoot."

"We're not armed," Dean told her.

"You're a liar, Dean Winchester," she muttered.

They had been packing all day, and Dean wondered if it was something she could smell. The metal, the residue on their pistols. She hadn't said a word, and for that he had been grateful. But if she had sensed it, and had let them go before her alpha with every means of protecting themselves, had the old man noticed as well? Briefly, he wondered if that were the reason they had gotten off so easy. The alpha had known they were ready to defend themselves but they had proven safe without provocation, true to Case's word.

Slowly, she eased where she sat, resting her arms on the counter once again. "False alarm," she said, "I think it was just the night crew."

"Night crew?" Sam asked.

"They make rounds through town and around the houses to assure that everything is calm," she replied. "They tell me they hate coming all the way out here, but I think they enjoy the run."

"You got any beer, Case?" Dean asked.

"Shit getting too weird, you have to drink off the creepy?" she replied.

"Yes," Dean smirked.

His brother asked, "That sentence made sense?"

With a smile, Case said, "Hey Sammy, can you grab a couple from the fridge?"

Sam went to the silver box. Opening it, he chuckled and said, "How much?" and he swung the door open so his brother could see that more than half of the contents inside was amber bottles.

"Never saw a woman with that much beer in her fridge," Dean said.

"I know how to please a man," she returned with a sly smile.

Dean scoffed. "You're off to a good start, but the sex needs some work," he told her.

Sam and Case stared at him. "I cannot believe you just said that," his brother sighed.

"I'll just practice with Sammy, then," Case replied flatly.

Sam approached them and placed a bottle before them. Case's gaze remained on Dean as she popped the top on her bottle and took a long drink. "What do you think, Sammy?" she asked.

"Am I being used?" he questioned.

Dean stared at his brother, brow furrowed. "You actually have a problem with being used by a woman?" he laughed.

"No," Sam said, but his tone wasn't convincing.

Taking another long drink, Case then said, "Unlike some people, I don't use others."

"Not cool, Case," Dean said as she stood from her seat at the counter and left them in the kitchen.

Sam watched her cross the room, toward the stairs. "Alright, really," he said to his brother, "what happened?"

"Don't worry about it, Sammy. It was nothing," he replied.

"Son of a bitch," Case breathed. The brothers barely had time to look up when the window to the right of the door shattered.

"Casey!" Dean shouted as one large wolf grabbed her arm, wrenching her to the ground. The bottle in her hand shattered on the stone floor. A second wolf sank teeth into her leg. The brothers rushed towards her, watched her shout out in pain. She changed shape before their eyes, becoming a wolf only a hair smaller than the two that sank teeth into her flesh.

Timberwolves fought on the first floor, sank teeth into each other. One of them turned, went after Dean. He backed up, tripped over his own feet. Sam caught him. The brown and red wolf that Case had become leapt upon the one that rushed the Winchesters, bit into its neck and dragged it away as it screamed in pain.

Blood slicked the floor in the entrance hall as teeth snapped and bones crunched. Finally, the intruders, matted in blood, one limping and the other with a tail dangling in half, leapt back out the window. The red-brown wolf that remained dripped blood where it stood. A savage snarl came from its mouth and then it flew through the broken window in pursuit of the attackers.

"Casey!" Dean shouted again. He ran to the door, flung it open. His brother was right behind him.

The world outside the house was completely silent. There were no night sounds, no animals stirring in the trees nor in the grass. "Where'd she go?" Sam breathed.

Growling caught their ears, but it sounded nowhere near as strong as any of the wolves that had just left the house. The Winchesters stepped back toward the stairs, away from the door. Sam remembered Case's words, a warning to not shoot, but Dean reached into his jacket, drew a 9mm. He raised it, took aim as a pitiful creature came into the light of the house. It's lips writhed with a growled warning.

Dean watched it, but still didn't pull his aim. The beast was thin, raggety. It looked as if it hadn't eaten in a long time. Behind it came a second wolf that crashed into it, tackled it to the floor and set teeth to its shoulder. The losing wolf began to transform, take the shape of a man with long black hair and red-brown skin. His skin was raw and bloody at his wrists and ankles.

The victor released him and leapt back. In a smooth, liquid transformation, it became Case, her bare body covered in gaping wounds. She moved close to the naked man, ran bloodied hands across his bony frame. "Ty?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Ty!"

Dean was unwilling to help his brother and Case tend to the slow-healing wounds of the starving man. He didn't want to touch anything. Case had made Sam wear gloves, and even then, she didn't allow him to assist much.

Ty was weak, lost. With little help, she had taken him upstairs, to the shower, and soaked him in hot water. She had bathed him, combed his hair, and set him upon her bed, bundled in heavy blankets. For herself, she only threw on another pair of clothes, let her own blood dry on her skin as her wounds healed.

Dean sat upon the stairs, watching her run back and forth. She heated soup for the man that had changed her, and he listened from where he sat as she tried to coax him to eat. He quickly became uncomfortable in the house.

When Ty drifted to sleep, Sam said, "Go get cleaned up, I'll watch him." He could see her hesitation and knew it wasn't because she didn't trust him, but because of the situation all together. "Really Case," he assured her, "it'll be fine, you'll be right on the other side of the door."

She rose slowly, keeping her gaze on Ty as if he would disappear again the moment she left the room. Glancing up, Sam found his brother standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He leaned heavily against the frame and watched the sleeping man with suspicion.

"This whole thing is weird," Dean said when the bathroom door closed and the sound of water came from within.

"Weird because now you really know she's a wolf, or because a person who was missing conveniently showed up today and instead of doting on you, Case is doting on him?" Sam replied.

"All of the above," his brother told him.

They spoke little while Case cleaned up. When she stepped back into the room, she still appeared worse for wear. Again, her clothes were baggy, a shirt and a pair of shorts. She moved across the room with stiff steps, chunks of flesh missing from her arms and legs. Skin was missing from the left side of her face, a wound neither of the brothers had seen after she had returned to human form.

"Bastards ruined my favorite AC DC shirt," she muttered as she took a seat at the foot of her bed.

"You didn't have a shirt on when you turned human again," Sam said.

"I can usually keep exterior garments," she replied, "I just lost my head this time."

"This time?" Dean asked.

"Had it up until he went after you two," she told him, rubbing the back of her neck. With a groan, she ran a hand lightly over the wound on her face. "Been awhile since I've been hit so hard," she muttered, wincing at the pain her own touch drew.

"I thought," Dean stated, "that your werewolves were bigger."

"Two forms," she said, holding up two fingers on her right hand. "Told you we were different."

"And you can control both?" Sam questioned.

"For the most part," she replied.

"I thought you said you could," Dean said.

"There's a fraction of error," she told him.

"Is that what you call it?" he grumbled.

"I'm sure the older ones have figured it out," she told him, rising to her feet, "but it could also be that I was already used to killing before I became one of these things. The rest of them were normal people."

"Bloodlust?" Sam asked and she nodded.

"Reason I fight with my hands more than my teeth," she told him.

"The barfight," he reminded his older brother.

Dean turned, leaving the room. Case looked to Sam and he sighed.

"Don't even worry about it," she breathed. He could see the exhaustion in her face. "There's a bedroom across the hall. You and Dean can stay in there for tonight. Make yourselves at home. I'll be in here with Ty if you need anything."

He understood a dismissal when he heard one, but as he went to leave, she caught his hand. She didn't tremble, but her touch was hot, burning. The look in her brown eyes was cautionary.

"Sometimes," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. He knew what she was going to say then. There were times that her human mind conflicted with her wolfish instincts. She was protecting them from herself, it was the only reason she sent them to a separate room.

"Are you two having a moment?" Dean asked, having returned to the doorway.

Case growled, a terrible noise that roiled from deep within her. She released Sam's hand and the younger brother glanced between the two of them.

"We need to go," Dean said.

Sam frowned. "Now?" he asked.

"Yes, now."

"We'll leave in the morning, Dean," Sam told him. "We're all tired. Let's just get some rest tonight and leave tomorrow like we were planning."

When Dean left the doorway again, Case sighed, "I won't be offended, Sammy. You two are safer far away from here anyway."

"I'd rather wait until light," he replied, "when I can see the wolves coming after us."

Running a hand over her wet hair, she said, "I don't know what the hell happened..."

"The attack?"

She nodded slightly and then said, "I'll stay up. I'll keep watch."

In their room, Sam dropped to lay on one of the two beds. He glanced over to his brother. Dean stared out the window to the dark night outside. "Really messed you up, didn't it?" Sam questioned.

"There's a lot she isn't telling us," Dean said.

"I got that much," Sam muttered, kicking off his boots.

"If she's playing it that close to her chest, there's nothing we can do to help," Dean told him. "We need to leave before we can't again."

"We didn't leave last time because Case would've been in trouble."

"Wrong," his older brother snapped, "We didn't leave last time because that asshole Thomas jumped behind my car."

"Dean..." Sam sighed, "Admit it."

"What?"

"You're afraid that you might actually care about her."

"Sammy," he warned, "this's the worst time for any of this."

"Maybe it's not."

"It is, Sam. Just drop it."

"Dean. What really happened?"

Something crashed downstairs. Sam rushed to the bedroom door. He flung it open in time to see Case coming from her room to the top of the stairs. A wolf barreled up at her. As it leapt, she lifted a bare foot and slammed it into the animal's face. It was the same way Sam had seen his brother kick in a door and the blow sent the animal flying back down the stairs.

Case went after it. Grabbed the wolf by the throat and threw it against the wall. The drywall fractured. "You're going to talk to me," she growled softly.

The wolf transformed, became a man without clothes, without a scar, but from the fall his arm was broken at an awkward angle. His nose bled from where she had struck him. "You can't win this, Casey," he choked. "Neither you, nor Ty."

"You're assuming I have any idea of what you're talking about," she snarled.

He stared back at her, eyes wide. "You-"

Sam watched her lean in close, watched her lips move. She then flung the man aside. Before he struck the floor, he became a wolf again and leapt through the broken window on the other side of the door. "And stop breaking my windows!" she shouted after him.

"Case?" Dean asked. Sam glanced back to his brother, heard a low growl from down the stairs.

When Sam turned around, he found Case walking back up toward them. She passed them and went to her bedroom where Ty slept. She kicked the mattress and he stirred. "Ty!" she shouted and he groaned, tried to sit up. "What the hell is going on?"

"I..." Ty said with parched lips, "smelled hunters." He looked past her, and when his eyes landed upon the Winchesters, he fought his weakness to rise from the bed.

With a hand, she pushed him back to lay flat. Then, she said again, "What the hell is going on, Ty?"

"Casey," he breathed.

"You're gone for years. Then you show up randomly and I keep getting attacked?" she growled.

"It's complicated," he coughed.

"I'm obligated to protect you," she told him, "but so help me, Ty, I will throw you out of this house if you don't start talking."

"You... wouldn't dare," he breathed heavily.

She stared back at him, her eyes narrowed. "I asked the Winchesters not to shoot. But the next wolf that comes through that door is getting it's head blown off. I'm tired of getting bit."

"So the rumors... were true," Ty said, his voice raspy.

Sam stepped forward, placed a hand upon her shoulder. He felt her muscles tense beneath his touch. "Calm down, Case," he whispered.

Ty sneezed. "Coconut?" he questioned.

"What is with this goddamn coconut?" Dean nearly shouted.

"I would like to know, too," Ty added.

"Last I checked, I was asking the questions," she said softly, her jaw tight.

Ty forced himself to sit up in the bed. He leaned heavily against the headboard. The two wolves in human skin glared back at each other, neither speaking. "You first," he said.

Through clenched teeth, Case asked, "Why are there wolves coming through my windows?"

"Heidrich saw me as a threat, not too long after I changed you," Ty said, gathering his strength, trying to keep his words even. Trying not to show how weak he felt. "They took me, to keep me from creating an uprising... and overthrowing him."

As if Case could hear Sam's thoughts, she muttered, "Heidrich is the alpha. The old man."

"My turn," Ty said and took a deep breath. "The coconut?"

"Does a little to mask my scent," she replied, "and the other wolves hate it."

Brow raised, Ty questioned, "You soak yourself in coconut so no one hits on you?" A smile broke at the corner of his mouth.

"I kinda like it," Sam muttered. Dean made a small sound of agreement.

"Were you planning on overthrowing Heidrich?" she asked. When he opened his mouth to protest her question, her eyes narrowed upon him.

"No," Ty answered, "but he saw me fight for and change a hunter and that was enough for him to feel threatened." He glanced from one brother to the other. "How'd you get away with it?"

"I assured him I wasn't changing anyone. Whether he believed me or not..." she said, letting her words trail off, and then she shrugged.

"You said a little more than that," Dean reminded her, leaning heavily on the doorframe. When she looked at him, he said, "You told him if he came after us, you'd go after him." With a shrug, he added nonchalantly, "I'm paraphrasing, of course."

"Casey..." Ty sighed.

"I didn't," she shot back.

"Sounded almost like a threat to me," Dean said.

Sam spoke then. "And then we left breakfast saying we were leaving town... and we came back here," he said.

"Good job making yourself a target," Ty muttered.

"It only looks worse that you showed up when you did," Case sighed.

"This time," Dean exhaled, "we really might be dead."

Ty suddenly became very still, listening. Case did the same, whether after she had seen him do it, or entirely on her own, Sam didn't know. She spun, shouted, "Dean, move!"

He stepped into the room only to be yanked back, crying out as a wolf sank teeth into his arm. He fought to grab his pistol as the animal dragged him across the floor.

A gunshot silenced the house. The animal's body fell, head missing. Dean sat up, flung parts of hair and hide and brain from his face. When he looked across the room, he found Case and Sam standing with guns drawn.

Sam rushed across the room to him, dropped to his knee beside his brother to check his wounds.

"Who...?" was all Dean managed to ask before Sam glanced back to Case. She held the gun loosely in her hand. It wasn't hers, she had grabbed Sam's back up from his waist the moment he had drawn. But he had hesitated, if only a fraction of a second, remembering her request to not shoot.

"You feel like identifying a body?" she asked Ty. The bed creaked and the skinny man, sheets draped over his starved frame, walked to the doorway. He frowned, took a deep breath, and said, "It smells like Pipes," he said.

"Damn it," Case exhaled, "I liked Artie..."

Ty turned toward her. "You're not going to do what I think you are," he said shortly.

"I am," she replied.

Looking at his arm, Dean wiped at the blood from his his ravaged right arm. "Son of a bitch!" he shouted.

Sam looked him over. "It's healed..." he whispered, staring.

"I'm infected?" he shouted at Case, rising to his feet.

"That quick?" Sam asked, his mouth agape.

"Scary as hell and virtually painless..." she replied. Her grip tightened on the gun in her hand.

"This is bullshit!" Dean shouted.

Ty smirked. To Case, he said, "You said the same exact thing when I brought you home."

"Keep talking," she said softly, "I'll add you to that list of people who aren't going to make it to morning..."

Ty stared at her, brows drawn. "And after you get yourself killed playing at revenge for your friend," he said sternly, "who is going to take care of them?"

"They can take care of themselves," she replied. "I'm just going to buy them time to get the hell out of here."

"He can't leave," Ty told her.

"They will," she said, "and when they're gone, I'm out of here, too." Ty stepped towards her and the gun in her hand rose, aimed at his face. "Don't stand in my way."

He sighed, shook his head. "Damn it, Casey," he growled.

"Damn it what...?" she questioned.

"He can be saved."

Dean lay in Case's bed, sweat beading on his face. Case and Ty had left, leaving Sam to stand in the doorway, shotgun in hand. Case had proved silver wasn't the only thing that killed a wolf. A well placed bullet to the head would do a beast in just as easily.

The last hour had been difficult. Case had been rough, angry. Fever had quickly set into Dean. In the blink of an eye he had fallen to his knees. He couldn't breath, his chest restricting. Case was suddenly there to help Sam move his brother into her room.

Ty had said he could be saved. The moment Dean lay in the bed, she went after the man that had changed her, shoving his starving frame against the wall. "Tell me!" she shouted. "How is it supposed to save him."

Ty shoved at her arm that pinned his chest to the wall. She only leaned into him further. "It's a cure!" he choked. "It only works if he's still in fever. Once the fever passes, the condition is permanent."

"You're going to take me to it," she told him, her teeth clenched, her voice a growl. "Or so help me, I will burn this town with you in it."

So gently, after releasing Ty, she had gone to Dean, had placed a cool cloth on his forehead. "I'll fix this, Dean," she said, a hand upon his cheek. His body shook, his eyes shut tight. "Sammy?" she said. When he looked to her, she smiled and said, "I'll be back. There's a stash under my bathroom sink with enough ammo to cleanse the Zombie Apocalypse. Keep the house safe."

"They shouldn't go after them once we leave," Ty told her.

"Just in case," she replied.

And then they were gone. Silence settled in. The air was tense. He could hear his brother breathing strangled breaths and he felt helpless when he couldn't do anything. He had gone to her bathroom, looked under the counter. Case hadn't been joking. She still had a hidden cache of weapons like every hunter. He had wondered if any of her pack knew she was keeping herself armed.

The guns were cleaned but the ammo cases had been dusty. It was only habit, he thought, that she kept up with the weapons, one of which was engraved. "To my wife: Arlene Remington," said a 9mm along the barrel. It was then he knew that Case had not easily given up her mother's things.

Sitting down against the doorframe, watching the stairs, he lay the shotgun across his lap. For the briefest of seconds, he closed his eyes. The world shook. His heart raced. Everything before him changed and he knew in that instant he was about to receive a vision.

Case stood before her alpha, Heidrich. Ty was not with her; she stood alone with her hands bound behind her back with links of silver chain.

"Where is Ty?" the old man roared.

"Where is the antidote?" she questioned, her voice hissing pain.

He waved her away. Two men took her arms, moved to drag her away. The way she looked at them, shouted, Sam could only feel her fear. Her alpha turned his back to the door she was taken down, laughed as he said, "She will talk."

Thomas shook his head. "She won't," he said. "The brothers could know where he is, though."

The closed door behind the alpha suddenly shattered, wood splinters exploding outward. A human-looking body fell limp to the floor and a terrible roar filled the room. The floor shook, the alpha turned, his eyes wide, and a beast of hair and teeth, standing on two legs, slammed into him and the other man, dropping them to the floor. The great red-brown monster ripped at the old man that tried to change his shape. He screamed at the pain. He was unable to focus as the she-wolf tore into him.

Thomas transformed, bones breaking, his skull elongating. Coarse gray hair rose over his body and he became taller, massive, larger than the other. He bound at the other werewolf, sank teeth into her, ripped flesh from neck and shoulder. Claws raked through bodies. The gray wolf knocked the other to the floor, bit into her neck and ripped the throat clean from the body.

The red wolf receded to human form, naked, bleeding out, suffocated. Case was dead.

Sam shot back to reality, his body shaking, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that he couldn't hear himself think. His hands gripped to the shotgun. Case would die. His brother would be a wolf. The pack would lose their alpha.

He was as good as dead. And wherever Ty was, he would die too, whether Thomas got to him, or Sam and Dean killed him first.

Sam stood. He looked back to his brother. If the vision had not yet come to pass, perhaps they could help. Getting to her in time would be crucial. But Dean could not move, and Sam wasn't sure if his brother should be moved. The infection was dangerous enough on its own. To stress Dean by moving him, he worried that he would not be able to fight the infection as long as Case would need him to. He had to stay hopeful. He had to stay at the house. Either Case would return, or she wouldn't. He would protect his brother until he was cured, or became a wolf.

Hours passed and dawn began to rise, he could see the paling of the sky out the windows. Dean had quieted, but his body was still hot with sickness. Sam could only assume that the fever was lessening. With resignation, he went to his brother with the intent to move him to the car, to leave town, then he heard his name. "Sammy!" the call came, tired and stressed from the bottom floor. "Sam...!"

He held tight to the shotgun and crossed the room with caution. He peeked out toward the stairs, could see the open front door from where he stood. Case leaned back against it doorframe, wearing nothing but a bathrobe soaked in blood. "Sammy..." she breathed. She staggered in, toward the stairs.

"Case!" he called down and she looked up, her face was slashed across with deep claw wounds. She bled from deep teeth-looking wounds in her neck.

"Catch..." she heaved and hefted a vial up the stairs toward him.

A figure leapt out, caught the item in hand. Case changed shape, became a timber wolf, and slammed against the man that had thwarted her attempts to save Dean. When he went down, Sam rushed to the top of the stairs, watched. He didn't know what to do.

Sam suddenly saw his face, saw that it was Thomas. As he pushed at her, his body trying to change form, she crunched down and pulled his hand from his his wrist. He screamed, his focus lost. Thomas settled back into his weak human form, cradling his arm.

The red-brown wolf, hand in mouth, ran up the stairs to Sam and dropped the limb in his hand. She changed form, blood at the corners of her human mouth. She watched him take a small vial from Thomas' removed hand. "He doesn't need all of it," she said, "about half should be more than fine."

He stepped back, before he rushed to his brother's side, Case again became a wolf, a smooth liquid transformation, and she leapt down the stairs to take on Thomas once more.

Kneeling on the bed, Sam shook Dean's shoulder, tried to wake him. Dean struck out, pushed at him. His eyes opened, but he couldn't see. "Dean!" Sam shouted. "Dean!" He held his face in his hands, made him look at him.

"Sammy...?" he breathed. He looked past him, through him. His eyes were dilated, glazed over.

"You have to drink this," he said, "it'll cure you." He pulled the top from the vial and pressed it to his brother's lips. Dean reached for it, nearly inhaled it. Sam pulled it away with half left. Exhausted, the elder brother closed his eyes again. He heaved a tired sigh of relief. Sleep overtook him.

Sam stepped back, watched him settle into peaceful slumber. He then noticed the growling downstairs had ceased. Turning, he walked to the door with the shotgun again in his hands. He was ready for anything. At least he thought he was.

Case sat on the steps, again in her human form, wearing Thomas' black jacket to cover her nude form. "That is not your decision to make," she told him. "And for that you lost your hand. Don't test me again, Thomas, I'll take your head."

"Then you are taking his place..." he said softly, withdrawn. The nub where his hand had been was now a sealed wound, as if it had never been there.

"I wouldn't trust you to do it," she said, rising to her feet, his jacket barely covering what it needed to. "We'll talk after the Winchesters leave," she finished and with that, there was a definitive dismissal.

Thomas nodded, cradling his missing hand. In silence, he departed.

"Case?" Sam asked. She turned around, the wounds on her face healing, beginning to grow closed. "What's going on?"

She groaned, "I'll... tell you when Dean gets better." Looking about at her bloody house, the carpets ruined, the walls in the entryway spattered, she muttered, "Damn, I hope somebody has a carpet cleaning service..." Her home appeared like a crime scene.

"Case...?" he asked again.

"Sam..." she said, brow raised. The fun woman he had first met upon arrival at the town was suddenly back.

She smirked up at him as if everything had been a joke and he couldn't help but smile. "If you need to get cleaned up," he said.

"Am I being offered my own house?" she asked, grinning.

Thirty minutes after Case had stepped into a steaming hot shower, she stepped back into her room in a long black Van Halen t-shirt. "Not afraid of losing that one?" Sam asked as she dried her hair with a towel. Her wounds were healing, mostly glazed over with new skin forming. They were no longer raw and bloody, but they were still open wounds.

"No one's coming through that door," she told him as she sat at the foot of her bed.

"And Ty?" he asked.

"He's in town under supervision. He was pretty beat up when we left the main house," she told him.

"How'd you get out?" Sam questioned.

"You almost sound disappointed," she muttered. When he opened his mouth to protest, she said, "I thought I wasn't, for a minute there. Ty had run off. I didn't think he was coming back. I figured I was screwed. But he came back in time to get Thomas off me. Then I went after the cure and walked all the way back." After a moment, she said to herself, "I need a car."

Sitting upon the dresser across the bed from her, Sam said, "I have a question."

"You've said that since I met you," she told him. "Go for it."

"Well..." he said, "how does the pack support itself, money wise, if they all stay here."

"They don't all stay here," she replied. "Some work in the nearby cities, come back when they need to. About a third of us are out and about, the ones that can behave. I have trouble with tuning out the noises and the smells." She left the towel draped over her head as she brought her gaze up to him, patient brown eyes. "But that wasn't the question you've really been wanting to ask, is it, Sammy."

He stared back at her. "No," he said.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Sammy," she warned.

"You and Dean," was all he said.

"It's not as awesome a story as you're hoping for," she told him. After a moment when she seemed to be sure he would only wait to hear her story, she took a deep breath. "We weren't in a relationship. Your dad went to investigate the last sighting of the yellow-eyed demon and me and Dean went after a lead at a local university. We were posing as students. I protected the girl who was having the issue while he went around and got the outside information.

We spent a lot of time together. And I found I was developing feelings for him. I held back, of course. Dean saw me as a boy and I saw myself as a sidekick, so I let it go. We found out the thing was a pissed off dead boyfriend that was suddenly after us because he seemed to think we were helping his girlfriend hook up with some other guy and move on. So Dean got ghost-possessed and I salted and burned a corpse. When he was himself again, he thanked me by kissing me. I fell head over heels.

When I was packing my things, leaving the dorm I had been staying in while we were investigating, I was going back to tell Dean to hurry up with that last box of junk that we gotten to make me look like a real student, and found him junk deep in the girl I had spent the past two weeks protecting. I felt betrayed, and used.

Two days hadn't passed before my mother and I packed and left John and Dean behind. I was heartbroken, but I had no one to blame but myself. I didn't say anything, only got offended when my first kiss went for someone else. Had I known that less than three weeks later I was going to be a werewolf and my mom would be dead, I wouldn't have cared so much about lost infatuation." She shrugged.

Sam watched her in the silence that followed. After a moment, he said, "You're right... that wasn't as awesome a story as I thought it was going to be."

Case smirked. The bed moved and she turned back to see Dean sitting up. "Morning Sunshine," she said.

"Case..." he groaned, leaning back against the headboard. "What happened?"

"You are wolf-free," she told him with an excited lilt to her voice.

"How?" he asked. Sam lifted a half-full vial to show his brother. Dean's eyes narrowed, he tried to focus on what his brother held. "Case," Dean said quickly, "would it cure you, too?"

Slowly, she shook her head. "No," she told him. "It would kill me if I tried to fix it now."

"There has to be something..." he replied.

"It's not as bad as you think," she told him. "The only reason we got you the remedy was because we didn't want your creepy, roid-rage self scaring the rest of the pack."

"Roid rage?" Dean questioned hotly.

"It's not steroids?" she asked and then glanced down his body and said, "You should get that shrinkage checked then."

Sam smiled, he couldn't help it. He had been drawn to Case by a scent she tried to mask, and while he knew she cared for him, it was nothing compared to how she felt towards his brother. The history between them only made it stronger. He would love Case because he had to, needed to. If it came down to the chance to be with her again like he had before, Sam knew he wouldn't turn it down.

"Hey Dean," Case said, interrupting Sam's thoughts.

"Hey Case," he mocked her.

"Remember that witch I kept you from killing in Shreveport?" she asked.

"How can I forget," he grumbled, "she wouldn't shut up about how you were a nice girl and I was just an asshole."

"You _did_ try to kill her," she reminded him.

"What about her?"

"She gave me something," Case said, rising from her seat at the foot of the bed. "And she told me it would help me in the future. She didn't say much else, only that she had seen what would come to pass and that there would be people I wanted to keep in my life who wouldn't stay otherwise. Not because they didn't want to, but they couldn't."

She crossed the room to where Sam sat and pulled out the top, middle drawer that sat between his legs. She hadn't hesitated as she forced him to sit with his legs spread wide. She pulled a small black box from among an assortment of underwear. Sam reached in and pulled out a tiny pair of black lace panties. He grinned. Dean smirked. Case, without looking, grabbed them and threw them back into the drawer and bumped the drawer shut with her hip.

Handing the black box to Sam, he held it while she opened it. He watched her pull out a single bracelet made of braided green thread. Three different braids crossed over and under one another. "She gave me this," Case said, "it's blessed. It will link the destinies of those who wear it."

"You want me to wear a silly green bracelet so that you can see me again?" Dean asked.

"Humor me," she told him flatly.

"It's a chance," Sam said, "More than we've got."

"You think..." Dean began, staring at her.

"I think," Case said, "if our futures are linked, you can't stay in Hell for long."

"Or you'll end up there with me," he told her.

"I don't think either of us are playing with crossroads demons," she replied. Then, confidently, she said, "We'll find a way to get you back, Dean, I promise."

Dean stretched his arms out wide. "Can I get a hug?" he asked.

Ignoring his brother, Sam held out his wrist. "I'll wear it," he said.

Case untied the bracelets and began unwinding them from each other. Dean watched her tie the first about her own wrist, a second about Sam's, and then they looked to him. "No," he told them.

"What could it hurt?" Case asked.

With a heavy sigh, Dean held out his wrist. Case went to him and gave him the last. She tied it close to his skin, tight, the way she had done the first two. "It looks like one of those friendship bracelets girls make each other in high school," Sam muttered.

"Similar concept," she replied. "Don't remove it. It has to fall off on it's own."

"And when it does?" Dean asked.

"It's the last time we'll see each other," Case told him.

Case changed the sheets on the bed, removed the blood-crusted ones and replaced them with clean smelling white ones. She drew the curtains to block out the sun and then she lay in bed beside Dean, Sam on her other side. It was time to rest, and Sam let the explanation of the night's events wait as he buried his face in the coconut scent of her hair.

Comfort took hold. Exhaustion was overwhelming. They fell asleep, draped about one another like a mass of limbs.

At midday, sun high in the sky, Dean awoke to a weight sliding across his stomach. "Case," he muttered. He shifted and opened his eyes. She wasn't there, Sam held him close, head on his shoulder. "SAM!" he shouted and struck him.

Sam jumped out of the bed, fell over himself and landed heavily on the floor. "What the hell?" he shouted.

"Case!" Dean shouted.

"Downstairs!" she called back.

As they clambered for the door, Sam paused and Dean rushed past him. The carpet was cleaned. The walls were cleaned. There wasn't a trace of war. The windows had even been fixed. Slower, Sam followed his brother.

Case stood cooking in the kitchen. When he neared, he could smell the bacon cooking. Dean sat at the island counter, waiting, smiling. Sam sat beside him.

"So this is where we say goodbye," Dean asked, "breakfast for lunch."

"Yesterday morning... I had every intention of leaving with you," she said, putting food on plates and setting it before them. "I wasn't going to stay here anymore."

"You can still come with us," Dean told her.

Gently, she shook her head. "No," she said, "I have to stay."

"Why?"

Sam looked to his brother, listened to his insistence that Case leave with them.

"I killed Heidrich," she told him. "I ascended as alpha for the pack."

Dean grew still. He stared at her. Sam understood then why Thomas had left without a fight.

"I have to fix what I destroyed," she said. "But..." She placed her hands on the edge of the counter, locked her elbows. "I'll be there if you want me there... when it happens."

Stiffly, Dean nodded. "Yeah," he said.

Case smiled then, returning the lightness to the room. "Eat up, ya damn hunters, and get out of my town."

"You're never going to stop saying that, are you?" Dean asked.

"My town?" she asked. "No. Never."

Sam smirked.

As they left the town with no name, they finally drove through it, from one end to the other. Had they not known any better, it would have seemed like a simple, sleepy rural town. Nothing stuck out as odd, as dangerous. There were gas stations and a grocery store. Here and there were cars, some new, some old. People met on the sidewalks like good neighbors and chatted about the day, but the Winchesters knew the topic of conversation. These were not ordinary people, and they spoke of a new leader; an isolated alpha that lived two miles away from the outskirts of town, away from the pack she ruled.

The townsfolk that waited for the aftermath of Heidrich's death watched the 1967 Impala ride through town. They watched the Garrison divide, and they could only hope for the best.

29


End file.
